Rachel's Coming Home (5 page)

‘Let me do that,' said Rachel, hiding a smile at the muddle they were getting themselves into. ‘Mind the step, Dad. Did the physio show you how to get up steps?'

‘She did, although I think I could do with a bit of practice.' Her father sounded a little breathless and was pleased to lower himself into his favourite armchair as soon as they reached the kitchen.

‘A cup of tea?' said his wife solicitously. ‘I wonder where Anthony is, I thought he would have appeared by now.'

‘He must have gone out for a walk,' said Rachel, somewhat baffled. Anthony wasn't the sort to go for walks voluntarily. And if he had, he could at least have taken one or two of the dogs with him, but a quick glance out of the window showed her that all were in their runs.

‘It is good to be home,' said her father. For the first time since she had returned he looked genuinely relaxed. Although a little short of hair, her father usually looked younger than his years he was so active and cheery. The fall and the hospital stay had taken away his normal colour and brought a few more lines to his face. Now these almost disappeared as he gave a huge smile. ‘I'll be back on my feet in no time with you two to look after me.'

‘We'll make sure you're not back on your feet until you're ready,' said Rachel firmly.

‘Have some cake,' said her mother, nodding her agreement. ‘Rachel made it for you. Coffee and walnut, it's your favourite.'

‘I can see I'm going to have to get used to being bossed around,' said Mr Collington happily.

Rachel heard a sound at the front door. She frowned. It sounded like a car but they weren't expecting anyone.

‘Maybe that's Anthony,' said her mother.

Rachel doubted it, but she rose to go and see. She swung open the old-fashioned wooden door and her face fell at what she saw before her. A fancy 4x4 had parked on the gravel and the person she was least looking forward to seeing was climbing out. She had had a very uncomfortable conversation with Philip Milligan the previous afternoon and had been dreading its sequel.

‘Hello there,' she said, taking a step forward and forcing a smile to her lips. ‘We weren't expecting you so early, I thought you said this evening …'

‘I came as soon as I could,' he said shortly. ‘I was worried about Ben. Naturally.'

‘Of course. I'm pleased to say he's doing very well but do come in and see for yourself.' Rachel hesitated. She had just realised that there was someone else in the car, a very small someone. ‘Would you like to bring in …?' She indicated the blonde-haired little girl firmly strapped into the back seat.

‘My niece. No, this won't take long, she won't mind waiting.'

Rachel examined the child doubtfully. She looked neither happy nor unhappy, she just sat docilely as instructed. Philip Milligan had already entered the house, so with a wave to the child she hurried after him.

‘Mr Milligan has come to collect his dogs,' she said as she followed him in to the kitchen. She and her mother both glanced at her father. They hadn't wanted to worry him by telling him of Ben's accident and now it looked like it would all come out. ‘I'll take him straight through, shall I?' She tried to hustle the newcomer through to the conservatory and out into the yard.

‘Why, it's Phil Milligan,' said her father delightedly, stopping her in her tracks. ‘I am right, aren't I? Goodness, why did no one tell me we had acquired such a famous client?'

‘Good of you to recognise me,' said their visitor, pausing reluctantly. He could hardly carry on walking after such a greeting.

Rachel looked at him more closely. She had thought those dark good looks were slightly familiar but she still couldn't place the man.

‘Don't you recognise him?' said her father. ‘From
Every House Has a History
? Tuesday evening, BBC2. Excellent programme. I thought you liked your history, Rachel?'

‘I usually play badminton on a Tuesday,' said Rachel. She felt such a fool, of course she should have recognised the man.

‘That's who you are,' said Mrs Collington. ‘I had a feeling I knew you, but we've all been at sixes and sevens this last week. You've made my husband's day, you know, and here he is, just back from hospital. You're one of his very favourite presenters. He's quite a history buff, is John.' She smiled fondly at her husband. She seemed to have forgotten the awkwardness surrounding their visitor's dog.

‘Wonderful to meet you in the flesh,' said her husband, stretching out his hand to shake. ‘Please excuse me not getting up, I've had a little accident with my ankle.'

Philip Milligan returned the handshake and looked down at the brilliant white plaster cast. ‘I'm sorry to hear that,' he said awkwardly. Rachel almost pitied him. Her father had clearly spoilt what had been intended as a very abrupt entry and exit. He smiled briefly and then attempted to regain control of the situation. ‘Nice to meet you. Now perhaps I could see Bill and Ben …?'

‘Of course, come this way,' said Rachel and ushered him out before her father's enthusiasm could delay them further. ‘I'm sorry about that,' she said. ‘And about not recognising you before.'

‘No reason why you should,' he said huffily.

‘And I'm really sorry about Ben. I know I should have taken more care of him, I loved taking him for a walk and I wouldn't have had this happen to him for the world. It's just that he's such a boisterous dog.'

‘Nothing like this has ever happened when he's been with me,' said the man pointedly.

Rachel blushed, in mortification at her silliness and at the impatience in the man's voice. She had hoped he might have calmed down a little since that difficult phone conversation, but obviously not. ‘I'm very sorry,' she said again, pulling open the gate to the run. ‘Here he is. You can see for yourself how he's doing. The vet said it wasn't too bad a cut but he'd like to see him again in a day or too. We'll cover all costs, obviously.'

She paused as Philip dropped to his knees and embraced both dogs. Bill was as exuberant as ever but Ben approached with a decided limp and looked very forlorn with his large plastic collar designed to stop him worrying the wound. Philip stroked his head and then gently examined the back leg.

Rachel held her breath. What if he found something she and the vet had missed? What if he was absolutely furious?

‘There, boy,' said the man softly, patting the two dogs again and then rising to his feet. ‘I'm glad to see the damage isn't any worse than you said.'

‘I told you exactly what had happened,' said Rachel indignantly.

‘Hmm.' The man didn't sound impressed. Rachel wanted to argue with him, to explain her side of things. But the problem was she had been in the wrong and knew it.

‘I'm sorry,' she said for the umpteenth time. ‘Yes. Now, let me settle what I owe you and I'll be on my way.'

‘We're not charging you, not after what has happened.'

‘That's no way to run a business,' said the man, one dark eyebrow raised. ‘I had heard that you were having one or two difficulties and it's not surprising if this is how you go about things.'

‘This isn't normally how we go about things,' said Rachel, forgetting she was supposed to be placating. Really, the man was insufferable. ‘Ben is the first dog who has ever been injured whilst staying with us. And therefore the first one we are waiving the fee for. And where did you hear we'd been having difficulties?'

‘I don't recall off hand,' said the man, unperturbed by her anger. He drew a cheque book from his pocket and began to make out a cheque.

‘Mum won't take it,' said Rachel. ‘And we haven't even had them to stay as long as was planned. We were expecting you back this evening.'

‘I always pay what I've agreed. It's up to her what she does with it.' He tore off the cheque with a flourish and handed it over. ‘Now, if you could collect together the dogs' blankets for me, I'll be off. I don't like to leave Amelia alone for long.'

Rachel glared. It was as though he was blaming her for leaving the child in the car, when she had been more than happy to invite her inside. She pushed the cheque into her back pocket, determined not to cash it, and went to do as he asked. The sooner he left, the better.

Her father seemed genuinely sorry that Philip Milligan couldn't stay longer and issued an invitation to call round any time. Rachel didn't think it would be taken up. She walked with him to his car, torn between her annoyance and gratitude that he hadn't complained about poor Ben's injury to her parents.

Anthony appeared at that moment and for once he seemed quite elated. She introduced him to Philip who gave a perfunctory nod and drove off.

‘Friendly type, isn't he?' said Anthony with a grin. ‘Did he make any more fuss about the dog?'

‘He wasn't too happy, but I suppose that's to be expected. And he did insist on paying, which Mum and I had agreed we shouldn't expect.'

‘Of course he should pay. I bet he's loaded, driving a great big car like that.'

Rachel sighed. She wasn't so worried about whether or not Philip Milligan was ‘loaded'. Her concerns centred around the fact that he, too, had clearly heard rumours about Collington Boarding Kennels. ‘We need to get more customers,' she said, watching the tail of his car as it disappeared from sight. ‘We need to keep our current ones happy and find some new ones. Anthony, have you heard any rumours going round about the kennels?'

‘Rumours? No, never. Why should there be any rumours?

‘That's what I don't know.' Rachel shook her head. ‘Anyway, come on in and see Dad, it's great to have him home. And don't mention rumours or Ben hurting himself or anything worrying to him, OK? We want him to get better as quickly as he can and that won't happen if he's fretting.'

Anthony didn't generally give much thought to his parents' business and whether it was or wasn't doing well. He didn't mind walking and feeding the dogs, although cleaning them out was the pits. But mostly he saw it as his parents' thing. Even this last year, when he'd been around the house more than he'd planned, he hadn't taken that much interest. He'd had most fun when he visited Rachel in Liverpool and then spent a couple of months with an uncle in France. Home was just home, something he didn't think about much.

Now he wondered if it was true the business was running into difficulties. He decided to pay a bit more attention to the conversations that were going on around him and to his surprise he found that they were fairly interesting. And best of all they gave him an excuse for getting in touch with Gemma again.

The kennels needed more clients. And if they needed more clients then they should do some advertising, obviously. He was determined to help out now. During his last year at school, he and Gemma had both participated in a Youth Enterprise scheme, selling homemade sweets, and together they had designed an advertising poster that had won an award for the best in the region. Maybe she would be interested in helping him out with something similar for the kennels. There was no harm in asking, was there?

The next difficulty was how to approach Gemma. He'd never been to her house. His parents insisted Freddy Smith was a perfectly nice man, but Anthony knew he wasn't well liked locally and almost never had visitors. Gemma and her father had moved to the area four years ago, which made them even more recent ‘incomers' than the Collingtons. As far as he knew the father had never made any effort to mix.

Anthony didn't fancy phoning the house in case he had to speak to Freddy Smith. Then he remembered there was one other place he could find Gemma. He negotiated a loan from Rachel and took the bus into Boroughbie. He had no idea what days Gemma worked, but the only way to find out was to go to the Boroughbie Arms Hotel and ask.

For once in his life he was lucky! Gemma was working that very day and the plump and friendly lady at the front desk told him to go through if he wanted to say hello.

Gemma wasn't so happy to see him. ‘I'm working,' she hissed at him when he seemed to want to chat.

‘But I need to talk to you.'

She frowned. ‘I finish at three. I suppose you could order yourself something and wait for me until then.'

Anthony glanced around at the clientele of the little restaurant. They were mostly families and middle-aged tourists and he couldn't see himself feeling at ease. Or able to afford the prices they were paying.

‘I'll meet you outside when you've finished.'

‘OK. Look, I've got to go.'

The next hour seemed a very long one and Anthony was leaning against the pillars at the bottom of the broad steps of the hotel entrance before the appointed time. Eventually Gemma appeared, still in her waitress's outfit of black and white, neat and pretty. It had been worth the wait.

‘I don't have long, I've got to get the three-thirty bus.'

‘Let me buy you an ice cream and we can sit in the park for a bit.' Anthony had planned this out and was pleased when she nodded. They chose flavours from the locally produced ice cream in the shop beside the hotel and wandered down to watch children on the boating lake.

‘Are you enjoying your job?' asked Anthony. It was so good to be with her again.

‘It's all right.' She shot him a brief smile that made his heart beat faster. ‘Not exactly my life's ambition, but Mrs Mackenzie who runs the hotel is really nice. All the staff seem happy.'

‘I could do with a job in a place like that.'

‘Mmm. What was it you wanted to talk to me about?'

Anthony was happy to talk to her about absolutely anything. And unless he was reading things totally wrong, she didn't seem to mind being with him. So he broached the subject of the advertising campaign, not mentioning the difficulties the kennels were having just now but explaining they wanted to bring in some new business.